This is how you kill demons, you love them, hug them so hard they can’t breathe.
Rage feeds them, so I won’t, even when I want to.
It is my job not to flinch and just listen.
It’s not hard.
My heart breaks harder and louder.
So I stand.
The words coming, flowing freely is how the poison gets out.
I said once that ‘when the wars wage in heaven it’s my job to tend to the wounded.’
“But there are wars down here Sarah. Do your job.”
My job, just like his, is to run into the fray with bullets and bandages. Sword and shield. This is what I am learning from him.
I ask my girls, the others that do what I do.
First thing that needs to be done is to wash the blood and grime and see how deep the cuts are. I already know the answer, down to the bone and into the marrow.
Nothing that can’t be mended.
By all rights I shouldn’t be here either.
I would never compare pain, but there are many times I hung onto the mortal coil by my fingernails.
“Empathic people are born with a gift and a curse.
Tormented by our pain and paralyzed by yours.
We are stabbed twice.”
Maybe before I remembered my wings, not now.
“When you begin to let that empathy guide you into being an agent of love in those situations (no matter how small the role of helper may be)….it stops hurting. Alchemy happens. The wound is the purpose.” Danielle Davis (yes, this)
I’m not afraid.
I used to be afraid. I once broke windows and people.
This strange thing happens when I am near him, I feel stronger, bigger, more like myself. My other half awaking.
I am dangerous.
Aye, I am.
“not all of us can control our powers.”
this is war.”
I am exactly terrifying enough.
The bible speaks of the Nephilim, half angel/half human, the heroes in old stories. So tall they burned their necks on the sun.